Waiting
by Realmer06
Summary: Waiting was her life for the forseeable future. She had to wait for her hero to finish his quest and come back to her. It was a role Ginny hated, and one she couldn't escape. But one conversation with Harry could change all that.


This will end up being a collection of shorts, placed in the Seeker Universe.

This is the first: Waiting.

After his journey with Remus, Harry decides it's time to talk to Ginny. 

Written for TMell, because she asked for it.

DISCLAIMER: Ginny and Harry are not mine. Remus and Molly and Tonks are not mine, either. They belong to JK ROwling. The friendship ring isn't even mine, as I borrowed that idea from Mercedes Lackey. I give credit where credit is due, and I tell you that nothing here belongs to me. Sadly enough.

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Waiting

Ginny was hiding.

Not, she told herself as her mother's calling voice rang through the air, that she didn't have a good reason for hiding, a reason that had to do with her mother, her soon-to-be sister-in-law, and a monstrosity of a bridesmaid's dress.

She chanced a peek over the edge of the portion of roof she was sitting on. She could sigh the top of her mother's head as she made her way inside, searching for her errant daughter. Ginny sat back against the side of the house with satisfaction. As long as she stayed quiet and right up against the wall, away from her bedroom window, she'd be fine, and have her escape for at least another hour before she resigned herself to going to that fitting.

She sighed, closing her eyes and tilting her head back. She'd just wait here for now. She'd gotten awfully good at waiting this summer. _Not_, she thought bitterly, _that that's an accomplishment I take particular pride in_.

Yet unfortunately, that was her life for the foreseeable future. Waiting. She had to wait for the wedding to get here. She had to wait for school to begin. She had to wait for Harry and Ron and Hermione to set off. And then she had to wait for news. Loving Harry Potter had unfortunately turned her into a damsel in distress, waiting for her hero to finish his quest and come back to her. It was a role Ginny hated, and it was a role she couldn't escape.

She'd have given anything to be doing _something_, but even countless entreaties to Professor Lupin to allow her help in whatever little way had been fruitless. He had given her a small, kind, and understanding smile and told her that without her parents' permission, she was still a year too young to be given any work for the Order. And Ginny knew better than to try and talk to her mother about it. Molly Weasley would balk and be aghast and refuse.

And it wasn't fair! She wasn't even a year younger than Ron, and Ron would be right in the thick of it all, even if Mrs. Weasley didn't know that yet. Ginny had faced danger before! Yes, in first year it had almost destroyed her, but a year ago, at the Ministry, she had held her own! She had proven herself! And no one was willing to admit it.

She was still 'little Ginny' to her mother. She had to be protected. Even if the rest of her family and everyone she cared about was involved in the Order, _she_ had to be protected. Even in she had faced more danger than some official Order members, she _still_ had to be protected. Even Harry had said that, scarcely two months ago, with that nobly worded break-up of his. However nobly worded, it had still been a break-up, and it had still been stupid and just a little bit insulting. She accepted it, barely, because it was Harry, and he hadn't meant to be insulting. And she knew he was struggling with everything on his shoulders right now, things he hadn't told her. She respected that, all of it, but she was _waiting_ for him to realize that she could _help_! If only he'd let her, she could help him. She _wanted_ to help him. She wanted him to let her love him. If he would only do that . . .

She sighed again. 'If only's' were no use. She couldn't change anything. All she could do was wait. Wait and hope that _someday_ Harry would trust her. That _someday_ things would get better, and all of this would be behind them and they would just be able to _live_. She was so tired of waiting.

"I'd tell you that your mother is looking for you, but I think you already know," came a voice. She didn't react, at least, not visibly. She didn't start or jump or even open her eyes. She was proud of that. She did, however, tense, slightly, as she always seemed to when in Harry's vicinity this summer. Her heart pounded slightly, beating in her ears. She ignored it.

"Yes, I'm aware," was all she said.

"Wedding plans that bad, then?" She opened her eyes slowly and turned her head to look at him. He was sitting in her open windowsill, looking at her. The time was when she could tell anything about him just by looking in his eyes. No longer. His eyes were carefully guarded now.

She smiled grimly. "If you'd seen the dress they're trying to put me into, you wouldn't have to ask." Harry smiled, putting his hands in his pockets.

"You could just go down there. Get it over with," he suggested. She closed her eyes again and shook her head.

"No. Because then it would be that and then something else and then something else and pretty soon I'd have spent my whole day like that, without a single moment for me. To just think. To sit and clear my head. To be alone."

There was a long silence, then, "I'm sorry. I'm intruding," he said softly, and stood to leave. Ginny cursed herself mentally.

"No," she said quickly. He stopped. "I mean, yes, you are intruding, but . . . I don't mind the intrusion, Harry. Come, sit out here with me." For a moment, she thought he'd do what he'd done countless times since he came to the Burrow – lose his nerve and leave after all, rather than be alone with her. But, after a pause, he climbed through the window, out onto the roof. He gave her one, small smile and sat.

He didn't say anything, didn't even look at her. He just sat, looking out at the town far away. The silence stretched between them in a way that silence never had before. It became almost tangible, as if, if she had wanted to, Ginny could have reached out and grabbed it. She sat there, closer than she had been to him since Dumbledore's funeral, her whole body tense, and waited for him to say _something_.

But he didn't. He continued to sit beside her in silence. Mentally, she screamed at him for making this awkward, for changing them. For being so noble and pushing her away. For exhausting her with the effort it took to do as he wanted and stay away and not go running back to him. For finally seeking her out, only to sit there in silence. She searched her mind frantically, looking for something that would break the suffocating silence, but before she could find anything, he spoke.

"I owe you an apology, Ginny," was what he said. She flushed scarlet. It was as if he had read her thoughts, and, now that he had offered one, she felt as though she had asked for it unfairly.

"No, you don't," she started miserably, but her turned his head to face her and gave her a grim smile.

"Yes, I do, and you know it, so . . . just let me get through this, okay?" She nodded, waiting. His eyes strayed past her, and he looked troubled. He shook his head as he, in turn, searched for words. She wanted to comfort him, wanted to hold him and stroke his hair and tell him it would be all right. But it would be a false comfort, and she knew it. She held her hands still in her lap and waited.

"I thought I was doing the right thing," he finally said. "Hermione said once that I had a . . . saving people thing, I think is how she put it. And she's right," he said, finally looking at her. "I do. And I thought, by breaking up with you, that I was doing the right thing. That I was keeping you safe, protecting you. I thought, if we weren't together, I wouldn't have to worry about you anymore.

"I know I don't have to worry about you, Ginny," he said, shifting away from her, looking at his hands. "I know that you are more than capable of protecting yourself. You've proved that much. But I do worry. I worry because of something else I thought I could change." He looked at her once more, caught her eye, and Ginny's breath caught in her throat.

"I was wrong. I was wrong, Ginny, and I'm sorry," he whispered. "I had no right to ask of you what I did," he said. "I had no right to ask you to stay behind when all you love are out fighting, no right to ask you to be something you're not." He reached out, tentatively, and tucked one stray strand of hair behind her ear. She closed her eyes, shuddering at his touch. "You aren't one to sit passively and wait," he whispered. He echoed her own thoughts so perfectly, she marveled.

"I made that request because I'm scared," he admitted, and she opened her eyes to look at him. He pulled his hand away, but she caught it with her own and held it, slipping her fingers between his as she had done countless times before. "I'm scared," he repeated in a whisper, eyes now closed. "I've never felt this strongly about anyone, Ginny, and it frightens me. It frightens me because I think I'd do anything to keep you safe, even if it meant letting the other side win."

Ginny barely heard what he said, so soft was his voice. She saw him take a deep, shuddering breath, and then he went on. "I thought ending things with you would change how I felt about you. It didn't. I've learned that it doesn't matter if we're together officially or not. I can't stop loving you, Ginny." Ginny took a shuddering breath of her own.

"Harry . . ." she said in a whisper. He raised his eyes to meet hers, and she shook her head. She was trying to tell him that he didn't need to go on. He didn't need to say anymore. She knew and she understood and it was all right. But he smiled without humor and shook his as well.

"We aren't safe, Ginny," he said, going on. "None of us. No one in this world is safe, not anymore. I can't protect them. I can't protect the people who throw their support behind us, who help us, and I can't protect you, and it kills me to know that. I can't make you any promises," he said. "Not really. All I can do is wish. Wish and give you this." And he reached into his pocket with the hand that she wasn't holding, and pulled something out. He kept his hand curled around it.

"Yesterday, Remus and I went to Godric's Hollow," he told her. "I learned a lot there, about my mother and father. The Marauders buried a time capsule there sixteen years ago, and yesterday it became accessible because Peter died." Ginny gasped.

"Peter Pettigrew is dead?" she asked in a whisper. Harry nodded.

"Yes. And that makes Remus the last Marauder. So yesterday, we went and opened the time capsule. This was in it," he said, gesturing to his closed hand, "along with a letter to me from my mother." He looked away again and continued. "She said a lot of things, and I . . . I feel prepared for the first time since . . . I don't know, even. Since I learned about all this, and the part I had to play in it. Anyway, my mother told me that this had become a family heirloom, and it held the power and protection of two generations' worth of love. She said I should give it to the lady I cared most about in the world, and that's you. So." He shook his fingers loose from hers and, catching her eye, pressed whatever it was into her palm, then closed her fingers around it.

She looked at him, a question in her eyes. He raised his eyebrows and nodded toward her closed hand. Casting him one more suspicious look, she turned her attention away from him and opened her fingers.

When she saw the small silver ring, she gasped and looked back up at Harry, who gave her a small, almost apologetic smile.

"Harry . . ." she started, but she didn't know what to say. She looked again toward the ring, and slipped it on her finger.

"It's been given as a token of friendship," Harry told her, "and it's still that, but it's also my promise to you, Ginny." Ginny shook her head, and finally found her voice.

"Harry," she said, more firmly than she had before. "Listen to me. I appreciate what you've told me today, Harry. More than I can say, but . . ." She gave a small desperate laugh. "Harry, first of all, nothing, I mean _nothing_, should stop you from doing what you have to do to win, do you understand me?" she said fiercely. "_Nothing_. Not Ron, not Hermione, not anyone in the Order, and _not me_. If they take me, if they use me to stop you, if it works, it does no one any good. If I'm in the way, if you have to hurt me, then hurt me. You hear?" Harry paled and shook his head.

"No, Ginny, I –" She covered his mouth with her hand.

"If they win, then nothing else matters," she whispered. "If your being afraid for my sake is your weakness, they _will_ use it! And nothing else will matter if you let them, Harry. If they win, there won't _be_ an us! Now, promise me! Promise!" She glared, holding his gaze firmly, even when he would have broken it, until, finally, he nodded.

She let her hand fall, and slumped against the wall of the house, eyes closed. "But for my part, Harry, I'm not going to let that happen. I'm not going to let them use me. I will stay where I am safe, or at least, as safe as I can be in this world. I will stay at Hogwarts, and I won't try to follow you." She looked him in the eye. "I know you three are going off to do horrible things, things that will be hard, things you may not –" Her breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed, forcing herself to go on. "Things you may not survive. I know, if you could risk it, I'd be at your side, fighting with you. But I know we can't afford to take that chance, Harry. So I will wait, though it will be one of the hardest things I have ever done. I will sit and wait to hear from you, and I will wait until the danger is past, or until you send for me. But know that if you ever need me, all you have to do is say so, and I'm there."

Harry nodded. And Ginny nodded, too. She reached for his hand again and sat up, away from the wall. "Harry, all I've ever needed from you was the promise that, when all this is over, you are going to come back to me."

"You have that promise, Ginny," he whispered, reaching up to cup the side of her face. Her eyes fluttered shut, and then his lips were on hers. It was a fleeting touch, but it lingered long enough to reenforce the promise. He rested his forehead against hers, and they just sat there silently.

"Is there anything I can do right now, Harry?" she whispered finally.

He looked at her for a moment. He needed her to do so much. Love him. Be there for him. Be the girl he had fallen in love with. He needed her strength and her passion and her courage to see him through what was ahead. He needed so much from her, but he didn't know how to ask for it all. "Just, sit with me?" he said finally. "Right now, just . . . be with me. For this moment." She smiled at him, nodded, and shifted her position so that she could lean back into his embrace.

As he held her, he thought that this must be what Remus had meant. They had talked, and they had reached an understanding, but it was so far from being satisfactory. Harry longed for the time when they could all love without conditions. But for this moment, he knew, he could.

"Remus," Molly called to the Head of the Order. He tore his gaze from where it had been focused and turned to face the slightly frazzled woman. "Have you seen Ginny? I've been looking for her this past hour, and there's no sign of her, yet the clock insists she's still at home!" Remus glanced upward, then smiled apologetically at her.

"I'm sorry, Molly," he said. "But I can't say that I have." The woman sighed, and turned to go into the Burrow, muttering.

"That was a lie, Remus Lupin," said a pink-haired witch from behind him. He turned to greet her. "You know where Ginny is as well as I do," she accused, hands on her hips. Remus smiled.

"Indeed I do, and I did not lie, Nymphadora," he said, taking her hand and leading her away from the house. "I said that I couldn't say that I did, which is true. Because if I said I knew where she was, I would have to tell Molly where she was, and then Molly would interrupt them. And they need not to be interrupted."

"And you know this, do you?" she asked him.

"Yes," he said, looking up at the young couple on the roof.

"Why?" she whispered, looking up as well. He smiled at the young witch beside him.

"Because, my dear Nymphadora," he said softly, "some things are more important than weddings." He brought her hand to his lips, and then put his arms around her. They stood that way for a long time, watching and content. For that moment, it was enough.

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There are more shorts like this coming! If you liked it, please review! If you'd like to request a scene from the Seeker story to be written as a short, please do! I can't promise anything, but I'm always looking for new ideas!

Realmer


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